


Dilemmas

by Yergink



Series: Morally Gray [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Anxiety Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Tags will be added as they become relevant, angel!saihara, demon!ouma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-01 22:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14530761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yergink/pseuds/Yergink
Summary: "Well, Saihara-chan? What's the right answer?"Saihara doesn't say anything, knowing that whatever answer he gives, Ouma is sure to disagree. To play devil's advocate. The thought is almost funny.--saihara and ouma make choices





	1. Heinz Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't take a year of psychology for nothing dammit

When Saihara had asked Akamatsu to find more assignments for him, he had expected to have more to do than sit around in white walled rooms and watch people in surgical masks talk all day.

 

Hospital duty. It’s a temporary post; he’s to be there for a few weeks and then cycle out with someone else. At the beginning he wonders why such a cycle is even necessary when there’s so little to do in the first place. Finding the answer doesn’t take long.

 

Hospital duty was _depressing._ He finds himself amazed at how human doctors can keep up with it all. On the fifth day, when he watches a human die for the first time, he mourns with sincerity. His eyes are blurry as he fights tears while watching as the news is broken to a hollow eyed woman who seems to shatter upon hearing it. And when the grief in her heart cries out to him, Saihara thinks he may shatter too.

 

It’s only later that he lets himself cry, in some unnamed storeroom with stained walls with the sharp scent of cleaning chemicals burning his nose.

 

Saihara’s heart longs so desperately to help each and every person that comes in through those revolving doors. It’s intrinsic for a being like him.

 

But no matter how much he wants to, he can’t.

 

Along with his assignment, Akamatsu had also given something else. A scroll of paper that must have been at least five feet long because when he unfurled it the end dragged by his feet. The top of it read “Miracle Requirements” in flowing script. The rest of the page was full of bulleted criteria and printed in such small text that Saihara had to squint to even read it.

 

“Why can’t we just help everyone?” He’d asked.

 

Akamatsu had just given him a small, sad smile in response.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s the third week into his shift. Saihara had been trying to sleep in one of the empty beds in an on-call room when he hears the distinct sound of bare feet dashing down the hallway outside. He perks up, glancing over at the occupied beds. If any of the humans heard it, they certainly weren’t planning to do anything because not one of them even stirs at the sound.

 

Thinking it strange, he gets up and heads to the door. It must have been a patient, right? None of the doctors would be walking around without shoes on. But that thought just worries him more. Saihara looks out the door and down the hallway, expecting to see some gown-clad figure wandering about, but finds it empty.

 

He was sure he’d heard someone outside. Allowing himself one more glance into the on-call room to check for sure that no one else was going to do anything, he decides he’ll have to investigate on his own and ventures out the door.

 

The hospital is rather eerie while clutched in the palm of midnight. Everything feels slow and dimmed, a stark contrast to the bustle of day.

 

Saihara isn’t sure what exactly he’s even looking for as he pads down the quiet corridor. Whoever had been out here couldn’t have gotten far, so he peeks into patient rooms one by one as he walks. Most of the wing is unoccupied, so mainly it’s just dark rooms and empty beds.

 

He searches fruitlessly for a bit but, upon finding nothing out of the ordinary, decides to just head back to the on-call room and try to get some sleep.

 

It’s while walking back that he feels a sudden seizing sensation at his shoulder blades. He stops abruptly just as his wings tear into reality without warning, spreading wide before folding neatly against his back.

 

Puzzled, he glances over his shoulder at the sheen of white feathers now weighing against him. He’d thought the concentration of humans in the building was too high for them to show up naturally. They certainly hadn’t made an appearance before now.

 

He stretches them out, trying to relieve the tension at his shoulders. Strange, but he doesn’t think more of it.

 

He hears the sound after turning the corner to the next ward. The sound of glass against glass, shuffling and scraping emitting from a room he’s sure should be locked.

 

The door is marked “Authorized Personnel Only” and is slightly ajar. The electronic lock beside it is smoking lightly, fizzing with sparks the same was a newly opened can of soda fizzes with bubbles. Saihara edges closer, and a wave of sinister energy crashes into him, causing him to falter. It reminds him of the way some humans hearts feel. Full of the capacity for evil.

 

He presses his back against the wall beside the door, trying his best to stay silent. He wants to convince himself that whoever’s in that room is human, but he knows that sneaking into a hospital and breaking into a secured lab would be an impossible feat for any mortal.

 

Carefully, he peeks around the doorway and his blood ices. The lights in the room are off, but one of the storage fridges is open, spilling a soft yellow glow into the room and illuminating a figure in black hunched over rummaging around within it. It wouldn’t be possible to mistake those clawed leathery wings for anything else.  

 

Saihara inhales sharply before he can stop himself, and the demon’s head shoots up at the noise. Immediately, Saihara flattens against the wall as best he can, clamping a hand over his mouth. He can only hope it doesn’t hear his heart beating fervently in his chest.

 

For the next few moments, all he can hear is his pulse in his ears. Then there’s the sound of movement, a shuffling as the demon turns.

 

“I know you’re there,” a voice calls out and with a start Saihara realizes the voice is familiar. And there’s only one demon whose voice he would recognize.

 

With that realization, logic is instantly telling him he should respond, that he’d be fine if he just took a breath and stepped out into the doorway, but fear shackles him in place. Because right now, the hospital is dark and he’s alone and that voice is different from what he remembers. In the stillness, Ouma’s voice is rough and commanding, truly _demonic_ in a wicked way that makes Saihara feel like claws are scraping against his spine with every spoken syllable. Terrifying in every sense of the word.

 

“You should come out! Hide and seek isn’t fun if you keep hiding after I’ve found you.” Ouma says, and Saihara can hear him stepping closer to the doorway, the scraping sound of that edged tail against the linoleum floor and the stretch of tough skinned wings.

 

His mind shrieks for him to move and finally his body decides to comply. He steps away from the wall and shuffles into the doorway, arms out and palms face up in a gesture of peace. He opens his mouth to speak but isn’t given a chance as Ouma rams into him without a beat of hesitation.

 

He hits the floor hard and the air in his lungs pushes out of him in a long huff. His wings are painfully splayed out under him and there’s weight sitting on his chest. He gasps for air and thrashes, trying to shove Ouma off, but he can’t manage it.

 

“Stop moving!” Ouma shouts, a hint of desperation underlying the command.

 

“Get off!” Saihara barks back, still trying to twist out from under the demon’s weight.

 

Ouma pushes down on his shoulders, making him cry out as the pressure against his wings builds. Fearing that he might end up breaking something, Saihara forces himself to stop struggling.  

 

He takes a strained breath and makes himself face Ouma, who’s poised above him, gripping his knife tightly in one hand. Upon meeting his gaze, the demon’s expression blanks and his brows furrow slightly.

 

“Saihara-chan?”

 

Still panting slightly, Saihara tries to smile in reassurance but he can’t really manage it while that blade is still pointed at him. “Uh… hello, Ouma-kun.”

 

* * *

 

 

The lights in the waiting room are dimmed down, accentuating the shadows of the room. Saihara is seated uncomfortably in one of the chairs, which are too small for his wings and leave them scrunched together against his back. Ouma is seated next to him, watching lazily as he fidgets to get comfortable.

 

It takes a good minute, but he manages to find a position that isn’t too awkward. He folds his hands together before looking over.

  
“So, um, what are you doing here?”   _Digging through pharmaceuticals,_ he doesn’t add.

 

“Oh that’s easy,” Ouma waves a hand through the air. “I was stealing a deadly super virus so I can release it and destroy all of humanity!” From some pocket he produces a pair of viles and shakes them lightly, causing the liquid within to slosh about.

 

“Somehow I doubt that.”

 

“But it’s the truth!”

 

“Right.”

 

“What are _you_ doing here, Saihara-chan?” Ouma chirps.

 

“You’re avoiding the question.”

 

A grin. “Heh, you caught me.”

 

The viles vanish back into Ouma’s clothing. He’s quiet, leaning back in the chair and staring up at the ceiling. His tail flicks back and forth. “Hey, Saihara-chan, have you ever heard of the Heinz Dilemma?”

 

“The…what?”

  
  
“Ah, my bad. I forgot you don’t know anything about humans! See, there’s this neat thing about them.  They like asking hard questions, you see? Of course, they’re probably not hard for an _angel_ to answer, but humans have a tougher time with these sorts of things.”

 

Saihara frowns. “It’s not like everything is easy for us, either.”

 

Ouma scoffs, still looking away. “Right,” he says, mirroring Saihara’s earlier sentiment. “ Anyway, picture this. A woman is on the verge of dying from some disease. But what’s this? Someone’s found a cure! It’s a super rare and expensive drug that only this one specific person knows how to make.”

 

He glances over at Saihara, making sure he has his attention before continuing. “The problem is, this guy’s a greedy bastard, and the price he’s charging for the drug is way more than it took to make it. Now, this sick woman’s husband, Heinz, is desperate to get that drug. Sucks for him though, because he doesn’t have the money to buy it. He asks around, trying to borrow enough, but in the end he can only get together around half of what the thing costs.

 

“He goes to the druggist and asks if the guy can sell it to him cheaper or to let him pay the money back later, but that money-grubbing pig says he won’t do it. In the meantime, this woman is getting sicker and sicker. So what does Heinz do? He breaks into the guy’s lab and steals the drug for his wife.”

 

Ouma’s tail lashes. “So here’s the question, Saihara-chan. Was he right to do that?”

 

Saihara runs the situation over in his mind. He opens his mouth, thinks again, then closes it. Ouma is watching him intently. He can feel his palms start to sweat as time passes and he fails to come up with something. He opens his mouth again but rethinks it.

 

“Ohhhhh, I guess you were right Saihara-chan! Looks like angels don’t always have the answers.” Ouma says, grinning all too wide.

 

“It’s a trick,” Saihara says, finally. “Whatever I say, you’ll have a way to refute it.”

 

“Ah, so you say, but that’s not what you’re thinking! You’re thinking ‘There must be something I can say that won’t leave room for argument. There must be a right answer.’ You dumb angels are always thinking in blacks and whites like that.”

Ouma is fiddling with something in his hands. The viles, he notes dully. He’d nearly forgotten.

 

“But I mean, in the end it really doesn’t matter what your answer is,” Ouma says. “Because it’s not real. Heinz isn’t real. His wife and her illness aren’t real. No one’s life is on the line depending on your answer. It’s hypothetical.”

 

“Ah, but that’s a lie, isn’t it?” Saihara replies, nodding towards the viles. “Tell me what you’re going to do with those. And don’t avoid the question this time.”

 

Ouma pouts. “Saihara-chan is too good! Maybe I don’t wanna tell you what I’m doing because it’s super evil and hearing it would make your delicate angel ears melt! I’m just trying to keep you safe, ever consider that?”

 

“Ouma-kun.”

 

Ouma whines and stamps a foot childishly.

 

“Please?” Saihara tries again.

 

“Uggghhh,” Ouma groans. “Fine! Geez, Saihara-chan! Just being around you is sapping all the evil out of me.”

 

A patient few seconds went by.

 

“...I made a deal.”

 

Saihara sits up upon hearing that. “A deal?”

 

“Yeah, a deal. With a human. We do that sometimes?” Ouma seems almost nervous admitting this. Of course, his air of superiority doesn’t fade but he crosses his arms and rubs at his elbow in a way that seems more like a tick than a natural movement.

 

“It’s this old guy. His daughter got sick and… and I showed up to be his saving grace! Better than what any of you angels do, right? You’re all just content to let people suffer!” His smile is almost like plaster in how fake it is. “So I told him I’d save his daughter if he gave me something in return, and he agreed! That’s just how a deal works.”

 

Saihara swallows, trying to alleviate some of the dryness in his throat. He can only assume the worst. “So... in return… you get his, um, soul…?”

Ouma rolls his eyes. “Puh-leez. What are they teaching you in angel school these days? Nobody actually asks for souls, Saihara-chan. What would we even do with them? I asked for soda.”

 

Surprisingly honest. Unless he was lying.

 

“So Saihara-chan! What are you gonna do? Gonna beat me up and make me put these back?” Ouma shakes the viles and the sound of the glass clinking together feels like it’s pounding against the walls with how loud it is.

 

“..I…” Saihara swallows again. “No, I’m not. It wouldn’t be--”

 

“wouldn’t be right?” Ouma finishes.  

 

Saihara grimaces, barely believing he’s allowing himself to be an enabler of this demon’s crimes. “That’s right,” he says as firmly as he can.

 

Ouma giggles. “Careful there! If you keep up bad decisions like these you might end up Falling!”

 

“It’s not a bad decision. D-Don’t make jokes like that.”

 

After a beat, Ouma stands, stretching as he does. “I should hurry and take advantage of you letting me go before you change your mind, huh?”

  
  
“You’re leaving?”

 

“Well duh,” Ouma links his hands behind his head casually. “I’m not gonna spend my night hanging out with some angel.”

  
  
“I guess that’s fair,” Saihara murmurs. “But, ah, can-- can I see you again?”

 

Ouma stares blankly at him.

 

“Is Saihara-chan asking me out on a date?”

 

Saihara flushes. “N-No! Nothing like that! I just--” he folds his hands together nervously. “I want to keep an eye out. T-To make sure you’re not causing trouble.”

 

Ouma laughs. In the still, the sound is somehow enchanting with how full of life it is. Once again, Saihara finds himself having trouble believing the boy in front of him is a demon.

 

“Then I’ll see you at our not-date next week!”

  
  
“Wait, what day? And where?”

 

“You’ll see!”

 

And despite his exasperation, Saihara can’t help but smile.


	2. Hedgehog's Dilemma (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In the cold of winter, a group of hedgehogs crowd together for warmth and safety from the cold. However, due to the spines on their backs, they are all harmed by the proximity. This drives them apart from one another, but soon after, the cold once again forces them together. The cycle continues until the hedgehogs are able to maintain a distance that allows for their safety from each other, but lacks the warmth provided by the whole group._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I've never seen Evangelion  
> also, updated tags!

Ouma is quick and light on his feet. He races along the sidewalk ahead of Saihara, his arms stretched out to either side childishly as his feet patter against the pavement. Saihara has to break into a light jog to keep up.

 

“You don’t have to go so fast!” he complains.

 

“I can’t help that Saihara-chan is slow!” Ouma shouts back, but he slows down anyway. He turns and begins walking backwards, linking his hands behind his head as he waits for Saihara to catch up.

 

“Can you tell me where we’re going now?” Saihara asks, once they’re side by side.

 

“Nope!” Ouma says cheerily. “Like I said! You’ll see when we get there.”

 

Saihara frowns as Ouma faces forward again, marching along the concrete. Not for the first time, he wonders if it was the best idea to leave his post and follow a demon to some unknown location in the middle of the night. It was just… Ouma had just sounded so  _ excited  _ about what he’d labelled their “not-date” that Saihara didn’t really have the heart to say no. It certainly didn’t help that Ouma had that round, childish face and those big watery eyes that just demanded sympathy from anyone with even a shred of compassion within them. 

 

He didn’t think he’d be doing this when he’d woken up to Ouma’s face smiling above him in the dark. At the time all he could think to do was scream as he tried to sit up and ended up toppling to the floor in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets. And yes, at the time, he’d said  _ “There’s no way I can leave to go somewhere with you.”  _ But then Ouma had begun tearing up, sniffling about how much he had been looking forward to spending time with “his beloved Saihara-chan” all week and, well... 

 

The hospital was long behind them now. Curse his soft heart. 

 

He breathes a heavy sigh, listening as Ouma hums cheerily while they walk. The streets are barren as they head out to the outskirts of the city. Unmaintained streetlamps fizzle and flicker and every car that passes by seemed to be going too fast, stirring up wind and dirt in its wake. 

 

That ever-nervous part of him starts wondering if this is some kind of trap. If perhaps he’d being led out to be killed, like a hog to a slaughterhouse. Leaving the city limits behind isn’t helping quell his anxiety. Away from the constant of humanity, everything feels wild and empty, and Ouma vehemently refusing to say where they were going gives him the impression that he’s “being taken to a farm upstate” so to speak. 

 

Experience says that if Ouma wanted to kill him, he could have done it already. Rationale says he’s being foolish for trusting anything a demon says or does. Emotion scolds them both because clearly Ouma isn’t planning anything bad, he can  _ feel  _ it. 

 

His mind is chasing itself in circles, making him dizzy. Quiet anxiety pipes up that he’s left his post and that’s what he should be thinking about. 

 

_ It’s only a few hours,  _ he thinks.  _ It’ll be alright.  _

 

...Maybe Ouma was a bad influence.

 

Caught in his thoughts, Saihara hadn’t noticed how far he and Ouma had walked until Ouma stops and grabs his arm. 

 

Grinning, he says, “We’re here!” 

 

Saihara looks. Ahead of them, the sidewalk breaks off leading into a huge concrete lot. The towering silhouette of a structure takes up most of the empty space. In the darkness, it is simply a black shape, rising up into the sky like a monument. Saihara barely gets a moment to marvel before Ouma pulls him in through a side door. 

 

At first, there’s nothing but blackness. Ouma shuffles, drawing away from Saihara’s side and after a moment, the lights flick on, illuminating an expansive warehouse sprawling in front of him. Pallet racks line the floor, reaching up to the ceiling, several times Saihara’s height. There are boxes everywhere, labels plastered all over them. The place is like an archive for miscellaneous goods, Saihara realizes, his eyes catching on labels that read everything from pickled beets to computer mouse pads. 

 

Ouma throws his arms out, gesturing widely to the space around him like he’s presenting a stage performance. He’s smiling. 

 

“Well? What do you think? It was a lot of work to clear this place out, you know.” 

 

“Clear it out..?” Saihara repeats, staring in awe at the sheer amount of  _ stuff  _ around him. His eyes travel upwards to the point where the boxes seem to blend together with how tightly they’re stacked. 

 

“DIdn’t I tell you? I’m the head of a legion of lesser demons that number almost ten thousand strong.” Ouma smirks. “You’re very lucky. I don’t let just anyone into our headquarters.”

 

“Somehow, I doubt any of that is true,” Saihara replies, unconvinced. Somewhere behind him, he hears Ouma moving. “Anyway, I was hoping that we could talk ab--” he turns, finally, but finds a conspicuous lack of a certain demon. Quickly, he glances around, eyes darting about the bottom layers of the racks.

 

“Ouma-kun?” He asks out loud, a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach. Then he hears Ouma laughing. In the vastness of the warehouse, the sound seems louder and he can’t quite pinpoint where it’s coming from. Just that it’s somewhere within the maze of metal bars and platforms. 

 

“You gotta come find me, Saihara-chan!” Ouma’s voice echoes, songlike. 

 

“Ouma-kun, this is a little ridiculous,” Saihara shouts back, trying to hide his discomfort with exasperation. He doesn’t get a reply.

 

Silence settles over him like a film. Saihara laments how he keeps finding himself in these sorts of situations whenever Ouma is involved. His hands feel clammy and he wipes them against his pants. His heart is beating just a bit too fast. It’s nerve wracking… but also sort of exciting? He’s never had a chance to feel this sort of rush before. It’s less just anxiety and more of an anticipation that floods adrenaline through his system. 

 

He wanders through the labyrinth, peeking past containers and inside open boxes. Ducking past forklifts. Passing stacks of crates labelled things like “lavender scented hand lotion” and “zodiac themed candles.” He imagines he could find anything here, if he really looked. The place seems to go on for miles. It captures his fascination, charming him in that odd and incredibly human way. 

 

Saihara closes another Ouma-less box, one full of green collared shirts, and concludes that the demon must be moving around just as he is. Not really expecting a response, he calls out, “What happens if I can’t find you?”

 

He waits a moment...Aaaand nothing. Disappointing, but expected. He turns to round another corner when a couple things happen very quickly. There’s a sound above him, something like creaking metal and before Saihara can look up he’s assaulted by an echoing scream. It’s loud enough to make him clasp his hands over his ears as he stumbles forward. He moves just in time, as something slams against the ground to his left.

 

Saihara throws his gaze upward to see Ouma standing on top of one of the pallet racks, leaning casually over a stack of crates. 

 

“Oh, hey Saihara-chan! I was wondering where you were,” he calls from his perch. 

 

Saihara glances at the fallen object beside him. It’s a significantly large empty box, one cardboard corner now dented from where it impacted against the floor. 

 

“You could have hit me with that!” Saihara yells back up. 

 

“That’s why I yelled before I pushed it! Anyway,” Ouma slides over the edge of the platform and drops the eight or so meters to the floor, landing nimbly on his feet. “I’m bored of being the one hiding. I wanna seek now.”

 

“Seriously? We’re going to keep doing this?”

 

“What, is Saihara-chan not having fun? Is having boxes dropped on his dumb angel head not exciting enough? Is that it?” 

 

“Ah, well, isn’t this a bit…” He trails off. “Um. Juvenile?” 

 

Ouma pouts. “I thought you agreed to go on this not-date with me. And this is what people do when they’re not on dates together. Now, I’m going to turn around and you’re going to hide. Or I’ll push a box of bowling balls on your head!” 

 

Saihara thinks of disagreeing and decides it’s probably just better to go along with it. 

 

The thing is, he realizes as he twists through the paths in the warehouse, he  _ is  _ having fun. It’s nice to have a break from the expectations he’s usually under. To always be serious and somber and mature. To always be above everything. 

 

A good amount of time spent moving around ends up leading him against one of the walls of the warehouse. Ouma’s strategy had been to keep moving, perhaps he’d expect Saihara to do the same? If so, then it’d be a better strategy to stay in one place. 

 

He contemplates shifting some boxes around to make a sort of alcove to hide in. Or maybe getting inside a box? They’re certainly big enough. He pops open an unlabelled one, hoping it would be empty, and instead finds it full of little silver trinkets.  They’re music themed pins. Cute, but he’s not going to let himself get poked by all those by getting in that box. He’s about to close the lid again when something crosses his mind. He picks one up, turning it about in his fingers. 

 

An eighth note, silvery with gold trim. Well-made, too. It looks like something Akamatsu would like. 

 

Suddenly his throat feels tight. He stares at the pin, unsure if his vision is blurring or if his hands are shaking. It slips from his hands, but the sound is dim under his pulse beating a drum in his ears.  

 

Akamatsu… what would she think if she saw what he was doing? If she happened to decide to check on him and found him missing? Found him… playing around with a  _ demon?  _ He imagines her cheerful face twisted into anger and scorn, and his breath feels heavy in his chest. 

 

There was no way he’d be able to get out of it. He’d certainly be punished if that happened. He thinks of Falling and feels lightheaded. A free hand clutches at his chest as he struggles to get air down, as he stumbles backwards into the wall and slides to the floor. In his mind, all he can see is her face, cast deep in the shadows of disappointment. He imagines his wings tearing, pearly white feathers ripping from flesh and scattering to the floor one by one as all the light he has inside drains out of him and--

 

“Saihara-chan?”

 

Ouma is there. He’s standing above him, a hazy spot of color. Saihara thinks he might be frowning, and his tone sounds so much like concern that Saihara can’t help but let out the sob that had lodged in his throat. Because Ouma shouldn’t be caring. Because this is wrong. 

 

“Woah, uh, are you-- um…” Ouma starts and stops and doesn’t seem to know what to say. “What happened?” He says and knowing that Ouma is trying to comfort him just makes Saihara bury his face in his hands and cry harder. 

 

“I-I’m s-sorry, I--” He chokes out in between heaving breaths. He can only imagine how uncomfortable Ouma must feel. Any minute now, he’ll leave and Saihara can put himself back together and forget about all of this. He can get up and go back to the hospital like none of this happened, go back to a world where Akamatsu will always smile at him and he’ll never have to question rights and wrongs…

 

But he doesn’t really want that. Spending time with Ouma… it’s interesting. It feeds his curiosity. It’s purposeful and exciting and so different from the monotony he’s used to. He doesn’t want to give it up. Ouma is like a ball of twine, strings twisted within themselves, and Saihara wants to pull him apart. 

 

Somewhere in between his racing thoughts and choked sobs, Ouma had sat down beside him. His voice is strangely hushed. 

 

“Just… breathe, okay?” 

 

“Y-You’re sta-aying?” Saihara sniffs, bundling up his sleeves and wiping at his eyes. 

 

“I’ll have to open a space in my schedule for it.”

 

Saihara laughs, but it comes out strangled by tears. He takes a few long breaths and coughs, trying to clear his throat. “Sorry,” he says again. “I-I know this is, um, sort of awkward.” 

 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting Saihara-chan to start crying just because I’m better at hide and seek.” It’s a joke, but the delivery is poor. Ouma sort of looks away, almost as though he’s embarrassed. “Ahh, my bad. I guess that’s not right.” 

 

Saihara wonders what he means but when Ouma looks back to him expectantly it clicks. It’s the closest he’s going to get to being asked what’s wrong. 

 

“I just… I started thinking about, um, someone I know. She’s a Dominion, that um, means she’s sort of like my boss, and, well… I was thinking about… what she’d think. If she knew what I was doing.” Ah, he’s shaking still. He clenches his fists against the fabric at his knees. “I-I just… got sort of, um, worried. N-No one can know that I’m-- that I’ve been--” he takes a shaky breath. “That I’ve been spending time with, um, a d-demon…” 

 

Ouma is silent, and when Saihara looks at him his face is flat, expressionless. He wonders if maybe he accidentally insulted Ouma by saying that. 

 

“Ouma-kun, I--”

 

“You’re not though.”

 

“...huh?”

 

Ouma gets back to his feet, still looking away. “You’re not ‘spending time’ with me. I’ve kidnapped you. This is all against your will.” He says it so matter-of-factly that Saihara almost  finds himself believing it.

 

“But… but that’s not…”

 

“It’s true,” Ouma insists. He finally meets Saihara’s eyes, and he’s smiling that too-wide smile. “You won’t get in trouble for it because it’s not your fault. Right?”

 

Saihara stares at him for a moment. Ouma… he’s trying to help. In his own, quirky, indirect way. 

 

“Y-Yeah,” Saihara says. “You’re right.”

 

“Now that that’s settled,” Ouma says, folding his arms behind his head. “I believe I’ve had a sudden change of heart. You should take advantage of it and leave while you can.” 

 

He’s letting him out. Letting him leave without consequence. But Saihara doesn’t want to do that. Because he knows that if he leaves now, he’ll never get a chance to see Ouma again. He’ll have to leave Earth soon, and there’s no way he’ll find Ouma again after that. 

 

“Didn’t you hear me? I said you can leave,” Ouma speaks tersely, noticing that Saihara still hasn’t moved to get up. 

 

“I heard you, but…” 

 

“Ah, got it, you need a chaperone or something? That’s fine, I can walk back with you.” Ouma holds out a hand to Saihara still on the ground. “Don’t take too long, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” 

 

Saihara thinks of before, when Ouma had refused to take his hand. Hesitantly, he reaches out and lets Ouma help pull him to his feet. His fingers find the end of the twine. 

 

On the way out of the building, he picks up the pin that had been left on the floor and drops it back in the box with the others. 

 

* * *

 

They walk back mostly in silence. This time, Saihara is in front, striding purposely along the streets he’s become familiar with. Every so often a human will pass them. Early morning joggers, dog-walkers, people on their commutes to work. Buses and cars rumble along the road beside them. 

 

Just as Saihara thinks that they’re going to spend the whole trip in silence, Ouma asks out of the blue, “Hey Saihara-chan, do you like animals?” 

 

Caught off guard, it takes him a moment to answer. “Uh, I guess in theory? I don’t really see any that often.” 

 

Ouma hums. “Any that you particularly like?”

 

“Where is this coming from?”

 

“Just curious.”

 

Saihara looks up at the sky where morning light has begun breaking over the horizon. “I don’t really know.” 

 

“I bet it’s chickens since Saihara-chan looks so much like one,” Ouma giggles. 

 

Saihara flushes. “H-Hey!”

 

“And so easily flustered! I wish I could see your wings get all poofy. Just like a chicken!”

 

“Then, then I bet you like porcupines, since you look like one,” Saihara retorts weakly, thinking of Ouma’s horns and spiked tail.  

 

“I don’t look like some dumb rat!” Ouma sticks his tongue out at him, but laughs after a moment. The sound fills the empty air, dancing in the cool and lifting something in Saihara’s heart. 

 

_ This won’t last,  _ he thinks, but he laughs alongside Ouma anyway. 

 

The outline of the hospital grows closer. He has to say something now.

 

“Hey, Ouma-kun?” Saihara starts as their laughter dies down. “I’m sorry. For, um… well--”

 

“You don’t really have to apologize.”

 

“It’s not for, uh, that. It’s… it’s more like for-- for making it seem like I didn’t like doing this. That I didn’t like spending time with you.” 

 

For a few heartbeats, the only sound is the pair of their footsteps. Ouma opens his mouth. 

 

“You don’t like spending time with me, remember? This is against your will.”

 

“I mean, okay, but--” Saihara isn’t sure how to say it. That he doesn’t want to stop. That he knows it’s risky, but he doesn’t want this to be over. “I was just… wondering… if you were planning on, um, k-kidnapping me. Again. Sometime.” 

 

Ouma’s face is as blank as the slates of concrete under their feet. Saihara bites his lip, feeling his muscles tense because it might have been too much. He’s pulling at the thread of that ball of twine, hoping it doesn’t tangle. 

 

He pulls and pulls, and the strand comes loose. Ouma pipes up. “Well, duh. What kind of demon would I be if I gave up my tormenting?” The demon latches onto his arm, stopping them both in their tracks and yanking downwards so Saihara is face to face with him. Those violet eyes are a tumbling sea, and Saihara can only see the turbulent surface. He swallows the knot in his throat as he stares into those eyes, struggling not to look away. 

 

“I won’t let someone so interesting get away from me, my beloved angel,” Ouma hums in a whispered tone, flashing a mischievous, ear to ear grin.

  
  


When Saihara enters the big revolving doors of the hospital and holds his palm against his chest, he’s not sure if his heart is rapping against his ribs from anticipation or fear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long. 
> 
> I know I say this every time but like,,, I'll edit this more later.


End file.
